


An Inclination For The Cold

by Kurakynr



Series: A Tactician Formerly Known As Glenn Fraldarius [3]
Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Drabble, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Glenn Fraldarius Lives, Glenn Fraldarius is Robin, Robin is Glenn Fraldarius, Robin!Glenn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23061679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurakynr/pseuds/Kurakynr
Summary: As the Shepherds head north to Regna Ferox Robin discovers he quiet likes the frigid north. It’s comforting and familiar in a way he can’t quiet place.The trudge through the snow is also an opportunity to bond with his new friend and prince.
Relationships: Chrom & My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Series: A Tactician Formerly Known As Glenn Fraldarius [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1657195
Comments: 14
Kudos: 54





	An Inclination For The Cold

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Tactician of the Azure Moon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22143604) by [UnknownHorizom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnknownHorizom/pseuds/UnknownHorizom). 



> Canonically Glenn’s body was never found, just his sword and armor. And white hair does seem to be a pretty common side effect of crest experimentation. And getting turned into the Vessel of the Fell Dragon Grima is close enough, right?
> 
> AKA: Robin is Glenn Fraldarius, or at least he used to be.
> 
> _1176, Pegasus Moon_

As the Shepherds travel through Regna Ferox, Robin finds himself enjoying the sub zero temperatures. The snowy gusts that ruffle his hair are nothing short of refreshing. He likes the frozen lakes and green pine trees that dot the landscape. Robin rapidly adapts to the frigid climate and environment. The cold is familiar and comforting in a way the tactician isn’t able to articulate. 

Oh, Robin isn’t blind to the danger of the cold. He might feel at home in it, but the cold is indiscriminate in punishing the careless and complacent. His robe offers a bit of protection. Not enough though, which was why Robin holds a faintly glowing Fire tome to his chest.

Chrom is grumbling lowly to himself a few paces ahead.

The prince isn’t complaining per say—Chrom isn’t the type to complain in the face of true tribulations—, but he is not a fan of the cold or deep snow. He’s neither used to nor wearing clothes suited to this frozen land. Trudging forward through the foot and a half of snow and leading by example, Chrom is shivering and his teeth are still chattering. 

Robin feels concern for his friend.

It takes Robin only moments to clear the distance between them. He cuts through the snow with practiced ease and walks beside the prince. Chrom’s exposed fingers look stiff so Robin takes off his gloves and hands them to him. The man tries to refuse him, but relents and accepts the gloves when Robin says he doesn’t need them for his Fire will keep him warm enough until they reach Arena Ferox. The gloves are still thin, but some protection is better than none.

Putting on the gloves, Chrom asks him if he’ll truly be okay without them. Robin nods, the cold isn’t even that bad he says. The icy winds are gentle and the sky is clear of winter storms. The water only appears to be frozen solid, he is almost certain that should the surface ice be tested it will crack and break. Robin had physically dragged Ricken away from the ice early when the curious young mage wanted to try his hand at ice skating. 

Chrom chuckles when Robin tells him this for the tactician isn’t usually one for physical manhandling. He admits that few of the Shepherds have much experience with this kind of environment and tells Robin he’ll make an announcement later to make sure everyone knows not to test the ice no matter how solid it looks.

What are winters in Ylisse like? Robin asks. The tactician can tell from the behavior of the Shepherds that they are used to kind and gentle winters. He is curious and wants to know more about his home. 

(Robin would not call Ylisse his new home. Because Ylisse and the Shepherds are the only home he knows. The tactician had probably belonged somewhere else once, but that place is lost to him. And whatever the truth of his origins, Robin is not particularly inclined to consider Plegia his home.)

Ylisse is rarely this cold, Chrom tells him. Except for the rarest and worst of snow storms, Ylisse, even in the dead of winter, will never reach the chilling temperatures of a Regna Ferox fall or spring. Snow is common, but rarely is the white powder higher than a few inches. Chrom can only remember the rivers freezing twice in his lifetime. And the winters are short.

With his newly discovered affiliation for the cold, the tactician can’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment about that. He recognizes Ylisse’s winter for the boon it is. Rarely does Ylisse suffer famine as a result of a harsh winter. Death by hypothermia is a rarity. Still, Robin thinks he will miss the ice and snow when they return to Ylisse. 

Chrom is greatly amused when Robin voices his thoughts. He jokes that perhaps there is more reason than just his hair for Gaius to call him Snowy. Robin cracks a grin. Snowy is much more fitting than Goldy or Bubbles. If only it was possible to cast ice magic, Robin dramatically laments, he might have to change his name. A smirk graces the princes face as Chrom shrugs and says if magic is truly the case Robin is a much more fitting name. For he commands the wind as only a bird can. It’s a nearly nonsensical sentence, but that wasn’t the point. Both Chrom and Robin are grinning. 

There is no noble decorum to stop Robin from cackling like a loon. He leverages the icy ground to spin on his heels like a fool, drawing his Levin Sword with a flourish and pointing it at the sky as he did. Well then, not to steal your thunder, but if magic is what is to determine my name then I must be called Levin Von Elthunder.

His friend is laughing now too, successfully distracted from the cold. Perhaps if Robin is truly so inclined to the cold he can handle future diplomatic journeys to Regna Ferox in the future. Naga knows there are few Ylisseans who don’t bawk at willingly braving the Regna Ferox winter. 

(The casual way Chrom calls Robin an Ylissean makes a fresh grin break out on the tactician’s face. He feels warm and light and happy. His pure white Plegian hair had drawn enough looks of suspicion in Ylisstol. People weren’t fond of an amnesiac Plegian hanging around the Shepherds and their prince and princess. But Robin was Ylissean to the only people who mattered. Himself and his friends.)


End file.
